


In Retrospect it might have been a bad idea

by Ghelik



Series: Life after the Mountain [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, It was supposed to be fluff, John is a Mess, Murphy's kind of sorry, Murphy-centric, Post-Season/Series 02, but I cannot write fluff to save my life, so this came out instead, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7086133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well one moment they're fine, the next he's being impaled and Emori is probably going to kill him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Retrospect it might have been a bad idea

In retrospect, stealing from this particular guy had been A Really Bad Idea.

  
The scam had worked flawlessly tons of times before. There was always the possibility that it didn't, but the risk was part of the excitement. So, of course, everything had to go to hell now that he was finally happy. 

 

Emori is going to be pissed. Well, as soon as she stops panicking, pressing on his guts, and screaming.

  
He blinks back the tears and the pain, trying to concentrate on her. She has a nasty cut on her cheek, which is going to leave a  scar across her face-tattoo.

  
That’s not right.

  
She is calling his name. Voice loud and scared over the pounding of his heart. Emori shouldn’t be screaming. Loud noises only attract trouble, never help. That’s something she taught him. She should know better, why is she screaming again?

  
Oh, yes. 

 

His guts are on fucking display.

  
Her hands shake so much the needle falls to the floor. A part of him is glad; Murphy seriously dislikes that freaking needle and the thick thread they use to patch each other up.

  
"I’m not sure that’s gonna cut it," he laughs at his own joke, and she shoots him a dirty look.

  
See? She is mad at him, is even cursing him in Trigedasleng.

  
By now he understands most of the language and can even reply with a sarcastic comeback. He probably messes the accent up pretty bad, but Emori doesn’t reprimand him, just gives him a watery smile.

  
It’s terrifying. Emori usually teases Murphy when he fucks up Trigedasleng, says even small children have a better grasp of it than him, but he’s too dumb to learn. Probably right.

  
He cannot feel his right leg. That’s not so good; you need your legs to survive on the ground. But, on the other hand, his fingers find the nasty needle. He should patch her cheep up,  knows how much his girlfriend hates sewing herself up and since they only have each other, who else will do it for her? 

  
Murphy's hand’s shaking when he raises it to her face.

  
"Gotta stitch that cut up, Mori."

  
He doesn’t even try saying it in Trigedasleng. His brain is sluggish, concentrating on anything concrete feels like such a chore. Emori's face is covered in blood, but he can’t stop looking at her wide brown eyes.

 

She has the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen. 

 

 Her deformed hand is still pressing a cloth against his belly, but the other closes around the hand with the needle, taking it to her lips.

  
There’s blood everywhere. But her eyes are beautiful, so big and just the perfect shade of brown.

  
"God, you’re gorgeous."

  
That was horribly corny. Murphy's become sentimental. When did that happen? Even Bellamy would tease him about it, and it’s not like that guy can talk.

  
Is it just him or can he truly hear voices?

 

The thief catches a glimpse of dark hair and a strong jaw and tenses. Either he’s seeing stuff, or Baby-Blake is standing just behind Emori, hair in a mean braid, sword in hand.

  
Murphy launches himself forward, trying to get his girlfriend out of the way. But no matter his intentions, the only thing that moves is a hand, twitching beside his body. 

 

But Baby-Blake is not chopping them up. Yet. She looks at them – at him – with wide, wide eyes and the sense of déjà-vu makes him sick to his stomach - hehe, his stomach, currently impaled. It's the same look she got that time the grounders had used him as a death-messenger for his p- for the delinquents. The memory sends phantom pain through his system. He can nearly feel the torn fingernails digging into his flesh.

 

By now Emori has turned, hunting knife in hand and a snarl on her face, her deformed hand still pressing the cloth against his wound.

 

 As amusing as it would be for Emori to kick Baby-Blake’s ass, Murphy doesn’t want her to deal with the other Blake, or that scary grounder Baby-Blake is always running around with, for that matter

  
"Fuck is that Murphy!" exclaims someone.

  
Before he can process what’s happening he’s being lifted off the ground.

  
The pain makes everything go black for a minute or two- or maybe more, since, when the world comes back, he’s not in the woods anymore, but being rushed into the perimeter of Camp Jaha, out of the sky and into metal.

  
For a terrifying moment, Murphy finds himself back in that bunker, alone, banging his hands against metal until his knuckles are bloody and two of his fingers broken.

  
Then he turns his head and sees Older-Blake looming over him, his jaw set, a muscle ticking and that’s pretty much all he can see. The edges of his vision are tinted black.

  
Bellamy carries him through a maze of metal. The young man can feel Bellamy's hands beneath his legs and his back. His voice seems to crack like a gunshot.

  
"Clarke!"  
  


 The rebel king plops him onto a cot. But the princess doesn’t appear, instead, there’s the princess’ mother.

  
Bellamy’s jaw works an instant before he clears his throat. "We found him…"

  
Murphy tunes them out. He’s bleeding out and wants Emori here, with him. Where is she anyway? She wouldn’t go. Maybe she stayed behind? Or…

  
He looks up at Bellamy and shivers. 

 

The doctor is bent over his intestines, but that’s not important. The important thing is: Bellamy doesn’t like grounders. He doesn’t like them like at all, not after Baby-Blake ran off with one of them. Murphy knows Bellamy tortured a grounder for information, back when they first arrived. That thought terrifies him What if they want information out of Emori? 

 

Information she doesn’t have because they’re just two low life thieves that don’t know much of anything other than surviving.

  
He needs to see her, now. Right now, needs to warn her, make sure she runs away because these people are like him: dangerous and don’t like grounders and have guns and Emori has just her hunting knife and is alone because he went and got himself stabbed.

  
Murphy struggles to move. But by now he can’t feel both his legs, his vision is tunneling and this is a nightmare. Has to be a nightmare:

  
Someone holds him down. Sees them with their stupid – terrifying - war-paint and the wicked knives, and brands and tweezers and his hands shake because it hurts how they’re tearing off his nails, flaying his skin. 

 

He bangs against the bars of his cage, and the walls of the bunker and he’s alone. He’s alone because he fucked up big time. He’s choking in this silence. Tips his head back and screams, but the void swallows his voice like it never existed.

  
He’s sorry. For most of what he’s done. He shouldn’t have…

  
The boy's mind is buzzing and there’s someone holding his hand, but is a normal hand, so no Emori.

 

 Why would she be here anyway? She’s better off without him, safer, _happier_. 

 

He looks up at the grounders with their grim expression, lips set. Only it’s not a grounder he finds sitting there staring into the middle distance. It’s the king. 

 

Bellamy's hand feels enormous around his, warm, calloused and safe. But it’s a lie, isn’t it?

  
He’s sorry about what he did to Bellamy, too. He was the first one to trust him, to give him some sort of responsibility and Murphy fucked that up. Big time, that’s what he does, he cannot be trusted.

  
He….

 

… wakes with a start, half a scream clawing up his throat.

  
Murphy feels like crying when he sees the metal ceiling over his head. It was all some fucked up booze-induced dream, after all. He’s still in the bunker, half starved and alone.

  
Then he feels the pain in his belly, pins, and needles in his hand and looks down to see Emori and everything comes rushing back: the heist, the attack, the skaikru… 

 

He’s back at Camp Jaha.

  
Emori smiles up at him from where she’s laying on his arm. Someone has patched her cheek up with small neat stitches he would’ve never been able to pull off.

  
"Are you ok?"

  
His voice is raspy, throat completely dry. She smiles up at him and answers softly in Trigedasleng. Skaikru is probably listening in and, unless Baby-Blake is the one listening in, they won’t be able to understand what they’re saying if they speak grounder.

  
He wants to kiss her she’s so clever. But that would put her at risk. He says something stupid just to make her laugh and when she shakes her head he sees bruises on her neck that weren’t there before.

  
A pang of anger explodes in his chest and he has to swallow down bile.

  
" _Who did that?"_

 _  
_" _Skaikru is not overly fond of freaks."_

 _  
_He tries to sit up.

  
They’re leaving before he goes and kick their asses for abusing Emori. Would probably be the other way ‘round, but he has to try on principle.

  
She puts her small hand on his chest and pushes him back down.

  
"Y _ou need to stay here,"_  she says firmly and it sounds like goodbye. Probably waited around to inform him she doesn’t need him anymore because he got himself impaled on a sword and…

  
The boy doesn’t notice he’s panicking until the thief says his name, softly.

  
" _Don’t leave me,"_  Murphy manages to beg and it’s weak. Grounders don’t do weak. Nobody likes a whiny asshole. He should just push her away before she can hurt him.

  
Emori shakes her head, a soft smile on her face.  
 

_"I am not going anywhere without you."_

_  
_Murphy shouldn’t feel so relieved, but it sounds like a promise.

  
" _How long have I been out?_ " he rasps.

  
" _Two days. They didn’t let me in until this morning. But Okteivia stitched my cheek and showed me around."_

 __  
He touches the bruises with trembling fingers.  
 

_"She did this to you?"_

_  
_Emori shakes her head. " _No, that was an older man. Belomi told me to stay on their side of camp because the older people don’t trust grounders."_

 _  
_" _Their side?"_

 __  
And since when was Bellamy kind to grounders?  
  


" _Skaikru is organized strangely. Young and old don’t mix? That is strange."_

 _  
_He has no clue what she’s talking about. He nods anyway and she laughs, bright and relieved like she usually does.

_"How long do I have to be here?"_

__  
She opens her mouth but is interrupted by Clarke’s mother walking in.  
  


"Ah, Mr. Murphy, you’re awake. Good. You had us scared there."

  
The doctor comes closer and starts inspecting the bandages and asking doctory questions. It’s boring and dull, and he tunes her out without noticing.

  
"When will I be able to leave?" Murphy interrupts, and the Doc looks startled for a moment.

 

"I’d like to keep you here for a few days. After that, you can move into one of the temporary lodgings until we figure out a better solution."

  
She’s talking like she believes they’re staying.

  
They aren’t. Murphy cannot be this close to the Ark and all the memories that come with it. He’s made a life for himself outside: a challenging and dangerous one, but it’s better than anything he ever had in the Ark, and it’s his.

 

 

Two days later, when the doc finally discharges him with a stern warning that he’s not make any sort of exciting stuff that may pop his stitches, Raven stands by the door, her arms crossed across her chest. She wears a brace on the leg he fucked up when he shot her.

 Murphy's sorry about that, too, but there’s nothing much he can do about it and doesn’t know what to say, so he just stays silent. He’s half leaning half letting Emori carry him as they make their slow way towards the door of the med-bay.

  
Raven shoots them a glare.

  
"Come with me," she says and turns to guide them out of what’s left of the Ark.

  
The camp has changed in the months since he left. Has it only been a year?

  
There are makeshift houses made of wood, stone and scrap metal, people milling about, running around.

 

 The wall looks more like a wall, with watchtowers and spikes on top. Raven turns left and starts walking towards a group of small houses built around what looks like a tiny square with a fire burning in the middle. He feels a sudden pang of nostalgia; it looks like the camp they had around the dropship. There are even tents and a smokehouse.

  
The small houses are separated from the rest by random piles of containers and fires, but he can recognize a fence when he sees one.

  
Raven takes them to one of the random tents.

  
"This is you," she tells them. "Nobody should bother you here."

  
He wants to make a sarcastic quip. Wants to thank her. Wants to ask why there’s a fence in the middle of Camp Jaha. But he’s tired and the cot looks comfortable enough, so he lets Emori do the talking and drops onto it and is out before his head even touches the rough cloth.


End file.
